


Let Me Feel Your Heat

by lacewingss



Series: Inquisitor Haiden Trevelyan [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Skinny Dipping, Smut, Tent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacewingss/pseuds/lacewingss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things get hot and sweaty when Dorian and Haiden Trevelyan retire to their tent for the night while in the Western Approach.  Good thing they got cooled down first in the small pool of an oasis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Feel Your Heat

What _was_ the maker thinking when he made the Western approach so damn bleak and scorching?

Dorian spent the afternoon cursing the sun and the sweat that poured down his face in rivulets, no doubt soaking into his clothes and flattening his hair. He was more than tired of the desert, and yet the days he must spend traveling through it stretched out before him like the endless dunes. It was with relief, then, when the small band stopped for the evening beside a small oasis of shade and water.

After setting up his tent Dorian settled on a more or less comfortable slab of rock, a book held ready in his hands. There was boisterous laughter coming from the small pool of water behind him, and he sighed in agitation. It was near impossible to get anything done with the trio of loud mouths he happened to be traveling with.

“Dorian, get your ass in here!” The Inquisitor’s voice, never to be mistakenly called quiet, or even volume appropriate, called out.

Dorian turned, and was hit with the sight of Haiden and the other's bare bodies frolicking in the water. The muscles on Bull's chest bulged, while Sera was busy scrubbing the dust of travel away.

“Excuse me?” If Haiden thought he was going to strip down and join them, he was clearly mistaken.

Leaving the water, Haiden walked up to Dorian, his body glistening in the dying sun. The water on his skin sparkled as it caught the beams of light, reflecting the warmth of the sand. “Hey.” He reached out, placed a hand on Dorian's arm and it was slick and wet, leaving lines of water dripping down to his palm. He was quieter away from the others, with eyes only for Dorian. Even surrounded by an army or in a crowded room, when he looked at Dorian in such a way he felt like the only other person in the world. It was enough to put him at ease. “The only one judging you here will be me, and I will be giving you a nine point five out of ten. So relax, and have some fun.”

How Haiden always knew what was bothering him, Dorian could never figure out. He would pick the insecurities out of his mind and reassure him that they were anything but truth, even if Dorian had never spoken of them.

“A nine point five? Really? I believe your rating is off, amatus. I am clearly a ten.” Haiden's words, even if spoken the light tone of a jest, had helped ease the tension Dorian felt. Why should he worry about bathing with the others? He clearly had the best body of them all.

“Yeah but I can't let that go to your head.” His lover leaned forward and pressed his lips to Dorian's cheek, leaving a damp impression. “Come on.”

Dorian followed Haiden to the waters edge, and before he could change his mind, removed his clothing and placed it neatly on a rock. Stepping into the water _was_ refreshing. It lapped at his ankles, and the further he submerged himself the more relaxed he felt. It did him well to enjoy the cool of it washing over his skin, and the peace of the oasis.

Until Haiden cut into the silence with another loud demand. “Here, Sera, get on my shoulders. Dorian, you get on Bull's. We'll see who gets knocked in the water first!”

Sera's laughter echoed across the surface of the water, sounding very similar to the cackling hyena's native to the land. “Ew, no chance. I don't want my naked bits touching you.”

“Yes and why must I get on Bull?” Dorian cut in, shooting an accusing look at Haiden. “If I was to take part in this clearly barbaric game of yours I should think you would want me on your team.”

“You know the answer to that and so does everyone else here, Dorian. You get on top of me and I'm bound to get distracted, and I'll lose the game. And I _really_ don't like losing.”

There was a splash from Bull as he doubled over, laughing. At least someone found this exchange amusing.

“Ah, but of course, we cannot let you lose at anything. The humiliation might just defeat you then and there and we would be down one Inquisitor.” Dorian made his way through the water as he spoke, and when he reached Haiden he smiled.

“I thought you'd like the Inquisitor going down, Dorian.”

Beside him Haiden snorted back laughter, and wrapped his arm around Dorian. The heat of his body was a nice contrast to the cool water. “I am certain you are not privy to what I like, Bull.” He turned to Haiden, who was grinning back at him, ready for whatever was to happen next. “But our Inquisitor _is_ quite good at it.”

“Damn right I am.”

 

* * *

 

Later, when the sun disappeared under the horizon and the air turned from stale and sweltering to balmy and heavy, Dorian did his best to make himself comfortable in the tent he shared with the Inquisitor. His shirt was neatly folded with his robes on the ground, and he lay on top of the bedroll, fanning himself with a spare sheet of parchment as he studied the book in his lap.

The light in the tent flickered, casting shadows onto the walls that danced to unheard music. Dorian's staff added to the candle's glow, dousing the small space in an unearthly silver hue. In the dimness Haiden was busy hunched by the candles, tending to the scratches and dents on his sword and armor. The steady clink of his travel tools on the metal was like a lullaby; Dorian had fallen asleep to the sound on many occasions while they traveled.

Now it played in the back of his mind as he read about ancient Tevinter magisters and the foul deeds they had performed. It was no light reading, and he found it fascinating in spite of the pang of anger he felt for his long dead countrymen. Not even the alluring motion of Haiden's arms running down the length of his sword could distract him from his studies.

Soon the ping of metal stopped, and he heard the shuffling of gear as Haiden put this things away for the night. He paid no mind to it, aware that shortly the man would demand his attention in only the slightest of annoying fashions.

There was a sigh from the other side of the tent, drawn out and exaggerated. Dorian suppressed a smile as he ignored Haiden's obvious ploy for attention. It was a tactic he had become used to; the Inquisitor was impatient when he wanted something. Dorian had learned after the first dozen times that there was no real pressing matter attached to those sighs, but only the need for someone, namely Dorian, to stop whatever he was doing and focus on him. It had taken another dozen times for Haiden to realize Dorian was not to be pushed along and he would have to wait for the other man to be good and ready to give him the attention he wanted.

Dorian spared a side long glance when Haiden flopped down next to him. Like himself, the Inquisitor had shed his shirt, and he could see the sheen of sweat that covered his bare skin. The hard muscles of his abs were relaxed, and Dorian's eyes caught on the trail of blonde hair that led beneath his loose trousers. There were drops of condensation beaded on the hair, and Dorian's mind drifted to imagining what their slick bodies pressed together would feel like.

With a stretch, Haiden wrapped his arm around Dorian's shoulders and pulled himself closer. Dorian quickly went back to his book, not wanting the warrior to know he succeeded in distracting him without much effort.

“My scholar,” Haiden purred in his ear, and the heat of his breath only added to the humidity of the tent.

Not looking up from his book, Dorian replied to the endearment with a wave of his hand.

“Well one of us needs to know more than how to hit something with a sword.”

“You wound me, Dorian.” Haiden's playful tone caused the corners of Dorian's lips to twitch in a near smile. “Besides, you like my sword.”

“Are we referring to that big metal thing over there that you swing around like a mad man, or something else?”

Haiden moved beside him and Dorian felt the rough skin of his hand slide down his stomach, resting about the line of his pants. Just the suggestion of more contact to come made his heart begin to flutter in excitement, as much as he tried to hide it by continuing to gaze at his book, though he had stopped trying to read the words on the page some time ago.

“I'll give you one guess.”

Dorian wouldn't need more than one chance to know exactly what Haiden meant. The other man was already pressing in close, his breath feeling almost cool compared to the air in the tent. He moved to trace the line of Dorian's collarbone with his tongue, licking the salty sweat that clung to him like dew. Dorian couldn't hold back the breathy moan that built up as his skin was caressed by Haiden's rough hands, working the tense muscles of his stomach and chest.

Letting his head fall back onto the pillow, Dorian closed his eyes, shutting out the light of his staff and the even the sight of the top of Haiden's blonde head as he steadily kissed his way across his body. He let out a long breath before carefully setting aside his book, where it was apt to lay forgotten until the sun made its way back to the horizon. Dorian knew it was now useless to attempt disinterest, and really, why would he? He had Haiden – the man who so often professed his love that is was almost comical – nestled flush against him, so who was he to dissuade such affections? He was more than content to let Haiden shower him in kisses and long drags of his tongue. What better way was there to end a day of tiresome traveling than to be adored by a handsome man?Besides, he never tired of the way Haiden gripped him like he was the one thing in this life that he could not bear to let go of.

The light kissing continued on for as long as Haiden had the attention for it, which was longer than Dorian expected. His hands were born explorers, though, and they found their way to the string of Dorian's pants before long. There was no hesitation in his actions as he removed them and tossed them to the side all in one motion. By then Dorian's erection was begging for attention, the neat patch of dark hair surrounding it damp with sweat.

Haiden, in the process of removing his own pants, looked at Dorian with a devilish grin. It was a sight Dorian was accustomed to, and knowing what it meant only made his shaft harder in response. When Haiden settled back onto the bedroll, Dorian quickly pressed himself into the man and found his mouth. A hand ran through his hair, and another massaged his thighs with the occasional graze of his erection. He could feel the pressure of Haiden's own hardness against him, hot and insistent.

His lover tasted of the sweets he fancied so much, and Dorian had time to question how he managed to have a steady supply even in the middle of the desert. Haiden's mouth was not all he wanted to taste, though. With slight difficulty, he pushed the Inquisitor away enough to move himself down the bedroll, all the while touching as much of him as he could. He paused to admire the contrast of his dark skin next to the pale of Haiden's and wondered idly how the man did not burn to the color of fire out in the blazing sun.

Dorian paused when he reached the fair curls surrounding Haiden's cock. He considered making his lover wait for his mouth, as he was so fond of doing. It was a treat to see the powerful man squirm and plead with desire, until Dorian finally gave him what he wanted. Now, though, Dorian wanted it as much as Haiden did, and so abandoned the idea.

The moment his lips surrounded Haiden he felt the man shudder. It was always easy to tell what his lover liked – he was no better at hiding his emotions and pleasures than at playing wicked grace, a fact that had lost him quite the sum of money. It was good for Dorian, though, as it told him just what to do, and what to avoid. Such as now, when he ran his mouth down Haiden's shaft in slow, languid motions. He took his time reaching the base, and even longer to slide back up to the tip, which in short order started dripping in anticipation.

He continued his path, lingering now and again to let his tongue move over the extra sensitive head. When he did Haiden would tighten his grip on Dorian's shoulder, digging his fingers into flesh in what was sure to form small blossoms of black and blue. When he started to feel Haiden's hips buckle beneath him, thrusting upwards to meet his mouth, Dorian increased his pace to meet the demand.

His now steady strokes caused a spike in pleasure in his lover. Haiden's breath became quick, his sounds of desire louder. Each time Dorian's lips made it to the base of his cock Haiden seemed to up his volume. Soon the moans and clips of _sweet maker_ were filling the tent and drowning out the sound of the night outside.

In Skyhold Dorian was inclined to let Haiden make as much noise as he wanted; which, generally, was _a lot_. The man was vocal enough outside of the bedroom, and had no inhibitions about making his pleasure known. Back in the stone walled fortress it was of no consequence. A messenger or two may have heard Haiden while en route to deliver news, and there was one time Josephine was looking for him, but other than that sound did not carry far.

Here, though, the night was so quiet Dorian swore he could hear the calls of hyena leagues away. If Haiden stayed quiet enough for him to listen, that was. With a slight shift of his body, Dorian took his lips from Haiden and raised his head, searching for his lover's eyes. They opened slowly, revealing unveiled desire.

“Amatus,” Dorian started, voice hushed in comparison to Haiden. “I am well aware of how much you like the sound of your own voice, but do keep it down. We're hardly alone in this camp.”

The devilish look was back on Haiden's face and when he grinned Dorian knew he was wasting his breath. “Not a chance.”

He felt the pressure of Haiden's hand on the back of his head, urging him back down. He left himself be guided, aware that he had lost what little battle there had been. There was no stopping the man when he had his mind set, and while it was something Dorian fiercely loved about him, it was also often a bother.

Perhaps Haiden was even enjoying this. The Inquisitor liked to be seen, and known. If he could make certain everyone knew when he was about he would be happy, and this was no exception. Knowing the others in their tents could no doubt hear every groan he made might just be adding to the pleasure he felt. Dorian didn't put it past him to want their friends to know exactly what the two of them were doing.

Now Haiden was being loud on purpose. _Just to spite me, I'm sure._ Dorian had half a mind to reach his hand up to muffle the Inquisitor's voice, but knew the instant he tried he would have his hand tucked behind his back, with Haiden rolling to pin his body to the bedroll. It didn't sound like such a bad idea, to be truthful.

He did not attempt it though, and did his best to put the thoughts of Bull listening in on Haiden's moans out of his mind. They were gone a moment later as Haiden somewhat roughly grabbed him under the shoulders and hauled him up for a kiss.

The intensity in which Haiden kissed him never failed to stop his breath. From the very first time, to now – when he had long since lost track of how many times their lips had met – Haiden seemed to put every fiber of his love into his kiss. It was all consuming, leaving Dorian to feel as if the world had fallen away beneath him. And perhaps it had. If he opened his eyes he could very well be lost amidst a sea of nothing, with only Haiden as a tether to reality. There were moments, even when they were not entwined as lovers, that Dorian felt in such a way, and it frightened him to his core.

But now was not a time for dark thoughts.

In one swift movement Haiden placed his hands around Dorian's waist and effortlessly lifted him from his body and flipped him onto the bedroll, stomach pressed firmly on to the soft down. He moved as if Dorian weighed little more than a child, though in reality he must be closer to Haiden's own weight. The man was confident in his strength, and there was certainly an abundance of it.

“Dorian,” Haiden's abruptly serious tone caused him to glance over his shoulder in time to see the other man kneeling over him, eyes fixated on the curve of his ass. “I think when the Maker made you he said 'this man will have the best ass in all Thedas' and so it was.”

“Quite better than a nine point five, isn't it?” Dorian smirked back at Haiden, throwing the man's earlier words at him. _Of course_ he had a nice ass. He worked hard for it. Well, he worked for it, at least. All that dreadful walking around Thedas had its merits.

“Fuck yeah.” Haiden added to the enthusiasm of his words with a hearty smack to Dorian's ass. He tensed at the impact, and at the sound that it made. He could hear Bull's chuckle from the neighboring tent, and he groaned, already preparing for the jests to be made.

He had little time to fret, though, as he felt Haiden shift and begin to rummage in the pack beside the bed roll. When he found what he was looking for it was only a short moment until Dorian felt the slickness of his fingers, coated with the oils they had brought with them from Skyhold, begin to press against his entrance.

It was Dorian's turn to moan, albeit much quieter. Haiden's battle calloused fingers felt pleasantly rough, and comfortably familiar. They worked their way around his hole, and Dorian sucked in a breath as the wetness of Haiden's tongue was added to the sensation.

_Maker, that boy knew how to use his tongue for more than talking_ . Dorian was soon breathing heavy, clutching the bed roll in balled fists as Haiden's slick fingers pushed in and out of him in tandem with the circling of his tongue. He was making soft noises, with his face pressed against Dorian; sounds that were muffled whimpers of pleasure, as Dorian noticed the Inquisitor's hand was now stocking his own cock. 

Haiden gave him on last lick, and his fingers slowly eased out. When Dorian glanced back, the man had his characteristic broad grin on, eyes alight with the glow of the staff. “Andraste's ass, Dorian. I could do that all day.”

_I would let you do it every day, as long as you like. If you'd have me._ The thought surfaced unbidden, and Dorian felt his heart clench. No. Now was not the time. Without much difficulty he pushed it aside, and merely chuckled. “I have no doubt of that. Now do you intend to leave me like this, or are you going to continue?” 

He was rewarded with Haiden's hands taking hold of his hips and pulling up, lifting them so Dorian was forced to his knees. 

He relaxed himself as he felt the tip of Haiden's erection press firmly against him. With the oil slathered on it, it slid in easily and Dorian let out a low groan. Despite his ferocious battle style, Haiden was never anything but gentle in the bedroom. At least until Dorian asked for otherwise. Tonight, though, he was more than happy to begin with the slow, short thrusts Haiden made.

And so was Haiden, it seemed. The other man kept his hold on Dorian's hips, his fingers digging in deeper with each thrust. His sounds of pleasure had quieted for the time being, though Dorian could still hear the heavy breathing and occasional grunt of effort as he did his best to maintain the slow, steady rhythm. Dorian was having a hard time controlling his voice, as well. He pressed his face into the pillow, in an attempt to muffle the exclamations he made.

Unexpectedly, Haiden's hand reached around Dorian's waist and found the hardness between his legs. The contact elicited a gasp from the mage, and then a mumbled  _ yes  _ in encouragement. Haiden's hand stroked in time with his body, and Dorian could feel each callous on the man's large hands as it ran over his sensitive skin.

The light of the staff began to flicker, and the silver hue that bathed them cast shadows on the tent walls. Dorian was loosing control, and with it his magic was growing unsteady. Haiden knew what that meant by now. He slowly – excruciatingly slow in Dorian's opinion – pulled himself out, and ran his hand up Dorian's back, causing him to shudder.

“I want to see your face when you come,” Haiden rasped, his voice thick with hunger. 

Again Dorian was tossed around as if he was a feather, this time ending straddled atop Haiden. The warrior was flushed rose all over, and sweat poured from him as if he had just stepped in from a rainstorm. Blonde hair was sticking out in all directions and dripping into his eyes. Dorian was uncertain he had ever seen such a thrilling sight.

“Amatus,” he cooed as he lifted himself up and onto Haiden's cock. He took over then, letting Haiden keep his strong grip on his waist as he moved in liquid like motions. The way his body slid up and down on Haiden's shaft was bliss; he felt very inch as he carefully took it into himself. After a moment he bent forward, seeking out Haiden's lips with a passion that surprised even himself. 

Soon they were moving as one, their breathing coming together in frantic gasps. The slick of their sweat mixed together and caused their bodies to slide against each other, slippery and quick. Dorian could hardly tell which part of him was his own, and which was Haiden's as the pleasure intensified and he clawed his fingers into flesh. His lips were roaming Haiden's neck and mouth, meeting his lovers as he mimicked the motion. 

The heat of the tent was forgotten, as was the audience in the nearby tents. All Dorian cared about now, all that he sensed, was Haiden and the incomparable feeling of being with him. 

On a short exhale Dorian felt Haiden's hand slip beneath him and find his cock. The sudden pressure and quick thrusts were too much; Dorian could no longer hold back his climax. He called out, Tevene words mixing with common in garbled shouts of release. The light of the staff against the tent wall flared a brilliant white, momentarily blinding the two men locked in embrace, before it once again dimmed. Almost the instant Dorian finished, Haiden followed. Dorian felt him tense inside him, and his primal cry mingled with Dorian's words; a rising cry in the silence of the dark desert.

Spent, Dorian collapsed against Haiden's chest, panting. The rise and fall of the other man's breathing matched his own, and it was long moments before either slowed.

When his energy returned, Haiden wrapped both arms around Dorian, keeping him close despite the stickiness of their sweat. “Now that was a ten,” he laughed, and _dear maker how did he have the energy to joke now._

Dorian rolled his eyes, too worn out to reply.

“I love you, Dorian.” Haiden's words were soft, mumbled into his ear with tenderness and unspoken promises. He kissed the top of Dorian's head, and already his grip was loosening and he was drifting into sleep.

Dorian kept his eyes on Haiden's face as it relaxed, watching the lines smooth and utter peace take hold. There was still a faint smile on his lips, one that never seemed to be far from the surface. He thought over the words, and more clearly the actions. Dorian never dared dream his relationship with the Inquisitor would get so far – but it was a dream worth having.

One day he would lose this man, but right now he was in his arms, and he was happy. He only hoped before that day came he could tell Haiden the words he was frightened to death to say.

“I love you too, amatus.”

It was easy to whisper them, faint and confident no one would hear. With a sigh, Dorian closed his eyes and let the light of the staff fade.

 


End file.
